Ward, Torch 7-1: Progression
by ZanyDuck
Summary: Chapter 1 is an alternate, sinister viewpoint of recent events as of Ward chapter 7.1. Chapter 2 is some time later than the current time in the story, and shows how results of the Simurgh's actions will affect the protagonist's hero team.
1. The Storm Before the Calm

The sensation of the moment would be happiness, if indeed there was a sensation. It would have been a good feeling, to see the fractured sky.

Of course, she *didn't* feel-not in any human sense of the word. She didn't smile and she didn't have the same frame of reference for pleasure. She didn't have the same notion of purposes, precisely.

But there was, yet, a sense of progress. There was an awareness of resolution, and of the course of the story. One has seen a favorite movie before, perhaps many times; the story is known, but does not one revel in the victories of the protagonist? If such a set path can be appreciated, if such a known series of events can yet delight, then surely there is something to be gained from a story which yet has some variables.

Some blind spots.

One such blind spot had been unsatisfactory. It had killed two of her brothers in a short span of time and yet not itself persisted. It was too much action for her tastes, if such human traits as "tastes" were to be attributed to her.

The disappearance of the protagonist was not a major factor in her opinion-analogue of the situation. That perception of coincidence would have been a human fallacy.

One might say the story had drifted from the main character. It made for a less satisfying stretch in the narrative, but you've read this book before, haven't you? You know he'll be back soon.

Good things came in threes. The three initial siblings and the three current groupings, if you didn't fall into the human trap of counting mere physical bodies. The three tube-babies. The three factions about to contest control of the multiverse, and the three wild threats preparing to bring it all down. The three faces of the Wielder of the Dead and the three faces of the Wielder of the Living.

And "now?" Now we're picking up the main thread of the story again. The three successes (plus one distraction) and the three supporting characters. They would face three trials, and on the third…

No, she couldn't feel pleasure, but something was better now. Something was at a high point.

The freshly-displaced Wielder of the Dead would be on her second trial now. It was a blind spot, but she had calculated from where these stones were being thrown. She had seen the future damage to the creatures from the second supporting character, she had seen the modifications and repairs made by the third.

Their subplot was reaching its climax. They would try something desperate, and the plot twist would manifest.

It was a satisfying twist. It would return the story to focus. It would return the sense of narrative purpose.

The agency. *Her* agency. Her motivation to again be active. Her spiritual core, distinct from the physical core at the joint of her largest wing.

Her Agent.

Her Eidolon.


	2. The Eye of the Storm

He raged. He also despaired. He also cowered. He felt crushing, suicidal hopelessness. He even felt passive-aggressiveness, a desperation to lash out tempered by awareness of the fragility of his only available target.

Or maybe not. No, there was another kind of strength here. His people-reading power gave him the sense that this target could withstand superhuman verbal abuse. Parahuman, even.

"THEY'RE NOT THE SAME," he shouted, surprised that he already felt the tiniest bit of relief.

Very, very tiny.

"Their intentions. Their magnitude." He wasn't happier, but he was calm enough to remember he was talking to a friend. "They wanted the destruction at some point. Or they wanted to stop themselves. If nothing else, they did less."

"Is it about the quantity, though?"

"Cute deflection. That's not the point."

She shifted in her chair, nursing her coffee. In some contexts it might have been unprofessional, but here? This terrifying distortion in space and time, where only his liberal application of raw power would protect them from the fate of the others?

She could keep her coffee.

She clearly expected him to tell her "the point" without further prompting. He was all too happy to do so. It wasn't a conversation, really-he needed to vent.

"My hands were already dirty, but I felt most of the weight myself. I still had support, public and personal. I had justifications-there were ways I could tell myself it would be worth it. I could pretend the ends would justify the means. I had a brilliant woman and some powerful precogs to shore up the weak spots in my sense of self-righteousness."

He looked up at the sun. It was eerie the way it moved but didn't move, somehow even stranger than the scenes at ground level.

"And now I don't have anything. I got my power back, but its core mechanics are as monstrous as its results, maybe worse. Everyone wants me dead, and I couldn't agree more, but there's that horrible chance it's part of the plan."

"How does that seem now? We've been talking for twenty minutes-"

"That's an optimistic way of describing this exchange. And please don't bring up the passage of time while I'm leveraging *these* sorts of powers." He gestured at the surroundings. She seemed intent on not seeing them, locking her gaze on him. It was probably wise.

"The question stands." Her tone betrayed a touch of annoyance. Apparently everyone had their limits. He was impressed that she was holding on so well. He might not be treating her as badly as some, but the situation they found themselves in wasn't her bailiwick at all.

"Yeah. Fine. I think it's too dangerous to take the risk. Maybe my return was seen as inevitable. There were hints of activity in my absence. Maybe the timing of this resurgence is meant to deprive me of my friends and my sanity."

"Your return was inevitable, but it didn't have to be smooth."

"Exactly. It's a weak theory in some ways, but… Well, she's done worse."

He looked at the surroundings again. He was a little worried, but there was no reason to think the immediate situation would deteriorate. His current time-manipulation power seemed adequate to carry them safely through.

"I just wish I wasn't so ALONE." He couldn't stop himself from shouting the last word. He nearly manifested a power to blast impotently at the barrier, but he restrained the urge.

"Could you clarify that? Alone how, exactly?"

It was a good question. He thought for a moment.

"I guess the team is the worst loss. It was companionship, but it was also purpose and even protection. And it's the hardest thing to get back, assuming I don't want to go full Villain."

"Would that really be so bad? Couldn't you still do the right things, even if onlookers thought they were for the wrong reasons?"

"I… No. I've thought about it. But no. I am amazed at the depths to which I can sink without touching bottom. Maybe there is no bottom-I don't intend to find out. I want to climb again."

He sighed. It was a long, long sigh, depending on how you regarded the passage of time in this circumstance. He tried not to think about it, and he tried not to think about what Khonsu must be doing to others right now.

"I want people to know I'm trying. I want the public to think there might be a good reason for me not to kill myself. I want to be seen as a potential solution for the renewed Endbringer attacks, rather than as the cause for them. And I know it's possible-I needed worthy opponents, not executioners."

"I can win this war… " He had been feeling a renewed sense of purpose, which deflated as he remembered the context of his speech.

"But?"

"But I don't think I can do it alone." The rage was bubbling up again. "And what kind of crazy hero team would accept the Father of the Endbringers? Have you ever met a group so self-defeating and so dysfunctional THAT THEY WOULD ACCEPT A MONSTER LIKE-me?"

His frustration faltered as an expression flickered across her face. It was brief, hard to catch, but he had seen countless variations of it on the faces of countless supervillains. It suggested he had sprung a trap.

Eidolon would never have expected to get a look like that from Ms. Yamada.

"Uh… Do you?"


End file.
